


knife to your mouth, little prince

by blairwaldorf



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, POV Jadis | The White Witch, Takes place during Book 2 / Movie 2 / Lion Witch Wardrobe arc, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blairwaldorf/pseuds/blairwaldorf
Summary: Human nature is rather easy. They all want what they cannot have.
Relationships: Jadis | The White Witch/Edmund Pevensie
Kudos: 2





	knife to your mouth, little prince

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't read/watched in years; go easy on me.

It starts with the Turkish Delight, of course, but it does not end there. Edmund, sweet Edmund, so cold and so young, so flimsy under the firmness of her hands, well, that boy walked into something he couldn't escape. He will wake up months later, icicles still in his mouth, the taste of blood lingering. 

Human nature is rather easy. They all want what they cannot have.

Manipulated into a betrayal, wonder in his eyes comes so easy. He looks at her, the way she's paper thin and clear to touch, all jagged edges, eyes empty of remorse. The cards were set against her from the start; she just did whatever she had to do. She never let herself feel bad about any of it.

He is young, so full of resentment, loneliness. She takes his demons in her hands. Knows how to corrupt.

The White Witch knows how she seems to him, to a little boy, alone and desolate. She was alone and desolate, little, once, too. She learnt quickly that it never gets her anywhere good.

Edmund gags, and she presses her mouth to his. It takes a little rewiring, a gentle ring of bruises. 

It starts with the Turkish Delight, but he is young enough that she can lead him in the direction she chooses. At the end of it all; she is the one he wants. 

And he is right where she wants him. Mouth to his pulse point, hands undoing his clothes. He knows by now to be quiet, she laughs ever so loud.

"Aren't I sweet?" she asks. His eyes are hollow, shadowed, much older than those of a boy his age. She feels a moment of glee; more than any war he was escaping from, it was her touch that had pulled such maturity from him. 

He always says yes. He knows better than to say no. He knows what happens to those who say no. So he sits there, shackled, little boy with the saddest eyes. And he waits. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
